Dear Howie,

Howard Ludwig at 18

If my math is correct, it’s your first semester at college. You’re sweating out a philosophy course. And worried that flunking out will mean returning home and being handed a shovel for rest of your life.

I’m writing this letter from 17 years in the future. I don’t want to get too specific, but everything works out. You are happily married with two kids, a modest home and an aging minivan. And that fear of returning to the family landscaping business with your tail between your legs still drives you.

About now, you are also contemplating pledging a fraternity. You won’t regret it. Those anti-fraternity folks who claim, “they don’t need to pay for their friends” – they don’t know what they are talking about. Some of the guys you meet through the fraternity will be standing beside you in tuxedos on your wedding day.

You’ll make other lifelong friends in college too. And your high school buddies are still hanging around. In fact, those are some of the first guys you call with news that your children have been born.

Having kids completely changes your life. I know people say that all the time. But it particularly holds true for you. Just go with it. This is another one of those things you won’t regret.

You are probably curious about the mother of these looming children. I won’t tell you her name. This is largely because you learn important lessons from the women you attempt to woo along the way. As a clue, I’ll say that often it’s the people closest too you that are the most difficult to see.

Speaking of which, take a look in the mirror. That’s about as good as it gets pal. It’s not like you are grossly obese at age 35. In fact, you’re in decent shape for your age. But if you are holding out hope for a ripped stomach and buff arms, it’s simply not going to happen.

If memory serves, you’re scheduled to have shoulder surgery soon. The good news is that the surgery works. The bad news is that it works so well you forget you have bad shoulders and attempt downhill skiing. Unless you’d like to have your “good” shoulder dislocated, stay away from anything marked Black Diamond.

I’d like to give you some stock tips and Super Bowl scores too, but that seems like cheating. I will say that e-mail and the Internet aren’t just passing fads. And if you think the price of gas at $1.87 per gallon is exorbitant, just wait.

I almost forgot but congrats on writing the front-page story for the college newspaper on your first try. Never mind that nasty letter to the editor, most freshmen don’t land on page 1 out of the gate. You might be on to something there. Keep it up.

Overall, I’d like to tell you not to worry about the future, but I realize that’s not really an option considering your personality. So go ahead and worry, just take solace knowing that everything works out. You are happy and healthy at age 35.

Keep up the good work.

Sincerely,

Howard A. Ludwig
November 2012

Photo credit: Like_the_Grand_Canyon / flickr.com

Even picky eaters generally gobble up chicken nuggets.

That’s been my experience. Though, my parenting has been confined to the continental U.S. I wondered recently what’s the “go-to” kid’s meal in other countries.

I reached out to Emily Koziarski, a pediatric clinical dietitian at Comer Children’s Hospital at the University of Chicago, looking for answers.

She, in turn, reached out to some of her international friends. They provided a smattering of kids’ favorites from foreign lands. Here’s the list, along with a bit of commentary:

BRAZIL – Pizza, cheeseburgers, chips, coxinhas. These are all fairly typical kid favorites, except for coxinhas. The teardrop-shaped snacks start with a ball of shredded chicken (usually thigh meat). The seasoned meat is then encased in dough and deep-fried in oil.
Coxinhas may sound exotic, but this Brazilian snack is very chicken nugget-esque.

CHINA – Fried dumplings (pot stickers) and chicken nuggets. After reading countless articles about China surpassing the U.S. in almost every category, I took a bit of pleasure in hearing that Chinese kids eat roughly the same junk as American kids.

CZECH REPUBLIC – Soup and rohliky. These kid-favorites came from my friend’s mother. She said soup is served before every midday meal in the Czech Republic, while rohliky is a fresh-baked bread roll sold throughout the country. It’s typically eaten in the morning with butter.

I’m told rohliky can be compared to a hearty version of breadsticks from Olive Garden. So, I imagine my boys would pig out on these, too.

INDIA – Samosas, cutlets, dosas, chicken nuggets (in Bombay) and golagappas. Samosas are a triangular pastry that are filled and fried. I’ve never had them, but pictures and descriptions remind me of crab rangoon served in Chinese restaurants here.
In Indian cuisine, a cutlet refers to meat stuffing made from beef, mutton, chicken or fish. This concoction is then dipped in egg mix, tossed in breadcrumbs and deep-fried.

Dosas are pancakes made from rice batter and lentils. Golagappas are hollow balls of dough, filled with a mixture of potatoes and spices. This common street food is then served with various chutneys ranging from sweet to spicy.
I think the American equivalent to this type of chutney is called “dipping sauce.”

IRELAND – Fish sticks. I tried to get Bubba and Peter to eat fish sticks during Lent. They took one bite and said, “There’s something wrong with these chicken nuggets, Dad.”

JAPAN – Sushi, ramen, curry rice. I’ve heard of some American children that also eat sushi, though I’ve never seen one of these elusive creatures in the wild. I can only imagine it would be like spotting an albino alligator.

All of these foods also depend on the region. So in parts of India, dosas may be common, while they’re rarely served in other areas. Once on a trip to Texas, I was astonished to see kids eating shrimp, but that’s common near the Gulf of Mexico. Not so much in Chicago.

Regardless, I think it’s interesting to learn what’s on the kid’s menu in foreign countries. Now, I wonder what kinds of toys are included with the meal?

Coach Ludwig and the White Sox

A lousy youth baseball player finds himself as a cheerleading teeball coach

Never thought I’d hear that. It felt great, like hitting a home run… not that I know what that feels like.

Buey – “Hello, I’m Buey.”

Froggy – “And, I’m Froggy.”

Buey – “I’m a six-inch, teddy bear. I’m also 5-year-old Bubba Ludwig’s favorite stuffed animal.”

Froggy – “And, I’m 4-year-old Peter Ludwig’s favorite stuffed animal. Though, I’m really more of a blanket-animal combo. I have a head and arms, but my body is made of a soft, silky cloth.

Buey – “Indeed. Every night the Ludwig boys take us to bed. This includes overnight trips. Together, we’ve been to four states – Colorado, Texas, Washington and Wisconsin.”

Froggy – “I have a hard time remembering an evening spent apart from my pal, Pete.”

Buey – “And, I cannot recall the last time I spent the night without Bub. If you’re familiar with the “Toy Story” movies, we are sort of the Buzz & Woody of the Ludwig Family.”

Photo Credit: Howard Ludwig

Froggy – “I’d argue that we are both Woody, as I fully expect to be taken to college as I imagine you do too.”

Buey – “Regardless, I thought I’d take this time to offer readers a chance to see the world through our sewn-on eyes. And perhaps share some things they might not otherwise know. For example, did you know that we’re clones?”

Froggy – “That’s right. On a small shelf in the office closet is a box. Inside this box are two freshly cleaned teddy bears and a laundered frog. Mom found these duplicates online, and Dad rotates us in and out as cleanliness dictates.”

Buey – “He also ‘keeps spares’ just in case (gulp) one of us gets lost.”

Froggy – “But so far that hasn’t happened, and I don’t anticipate it will. Pete is rather vigilant.”

Buey – “I’d argue Bubba is even more watchful. He’s 17 months older than Pete. And in my opinion he’s significantly more mature.”

Froggy – “Well, your opinion is wrong. But, let’s move on.”

Buey – “Gladly. Other toys often ask what’s the hardest part about being a ‘favorite,’ and what can they do to move up the ladder?”

Froggy – “As for moving up the ladder, there’s really nothing a toy can do. Bubba and/or Pete are either going to take a shine to you or not. We’re simply lucky. I can only say that if the boys show interest in you, return the favor.”

Buey – “As for challenges, the social pressure of being on the top of the toy box is brutal. All the other toys – and there are many of them – look upon the two of us with both disdain and adoration.”

Froggy – “I believe that this may be worsened by your elitist attitude. But I may be wrong.”

Buey – “You are wrong. In fact, you’re a real dope.”

Froggy – “That’s exactly the sort of response I’d expect from a first-born toy. It’s called amphibian envy. Read a book about it… Oh, I forgot. You can’t read.”

Buey – “You can’t read either!”

“And that’s the other challenge of this whole situation. This frog and I have become brothers by default. Our days are filled with clever insults, hollow threats and angry wrestling matches.”

“We’re best friends, but our allegiances are to different people. We are Democrat and Republican. I’m right. He’s wrong.”

Froggy – “That’s a fair assessment, and when you turn around I’m going to kick you in your plush ass to prove it.”

Buey – “Tough talk from a guy without legs.”

I was shocked.

Bubba’s kindergarten class operates on a stoplight system for monitoring behavior. A green light is good. A yellow light is a warning. A red light is major infraction that includes a note home from the teacher.

Students color their behavior onto a calendar that comes home everyday. The goal is to have a solid green calendar at the end of the month. Pull this off, and the well-behaved student receives a prize from the teacher. I was planning to supplement this with a prize of my own.

It figures that on the 29th, Bubba stained his nearly all-green calendar with a spot of yellow. He was clearly anticipating a good month. He even outlined the final two days in forest green, expecting a prize.

But how was this possible? I didn’t even think my boy knew what the middle finger meant. It’s not like I throw up the finger around the house. Even in traffic, I may mutter off-color remarks, but I don’t accompany my insidious mumbles with vulgar hand signals.

Bubba walked in the door and immediately confessed.

“I got a yellow light today, Dad,” he said, looking dejected.

“What? What happened?” I asked.

“This,” he said, holding his middle finger up against his chest. His finger was pointed outward, as though he was pointing to the zipper on his coat.

I looked at him confused. A neighbor dropping him off from school showed me what he did in the proper fashion. She smiled and properly gave me the finger with the nail pointed out and up; her fingers firmly pressed into her palm.

My eyes bulged.

“What? Why did you do that?” I asked.

“We were talking at our table, and this (he again showed me his backwards middle finger) means a bad word,” he said. He then began clutching my legs and buried his face between my knees, undeniably embarrassed.

Some further questioning revealed that the topic was brought up (surprisingly by a girl) in Bubba’s work group. From what I could tell, he got pinched while demonstrating what he had learned.

I didn’t think it was appropriate to blow up about the situation. Obviously, the end-of-the month prizes were off the table. That seemed to upset him, particularly when I told him I was willing to buy him a Lego set had he remained on green.

This also seemed to motivate him to stay on green next month in an attempt to reclaim his lost prize.

Had his actions earned him a red light, the punishment would have been severe. Say the topic of the day was migrating birds. If Bubba flipped off his teacher and said, “Here’s a bird for you, lady,” I would have brought my wrath down upon the boy.

But that didn’t happen. Bubba’s miscue seemed like an honest mistake – perhaps even a rite of passage for a kindergartner.

I’m holding out hope that this is a green month. But with 31 days and lots of holiday parties, it’s going to be tough. His best odds are probably in February.

I generally don’t run up the score, but I don’t lie down either. That’s not to say Bubba doesn’t eke out a close one on occasion. But I’m not the type of parent who routinely let’s his kid win games.

I wondered last week if this was healthy. I know plenty of parents that consistently let their children beat them in competition. Perhaps Bubba’s self-esteem is taking a hit every time I kick his butt in Mario Cart or score a double hat trick playing hockey on the driveway.

I called Prof. Gillian McNamee at the Erikson Institute in downtown Chicago last week looking for advice. She’s an expert in preschool curriculum at the graduate school that specializes in childhood development.

McNamee said self-esteem is not determined by wins and losses. Whether it’s Chutes and Ladders or Little League baseball, a child’s winning percentage has little to do with his or her feeling of self-worth.

Children have different appetites for winning and losing, too. The goal of every parent should be to stay in tune with his or her child’s needs. Sometimes a kid needs a win. But certainly not every time, she said.

“I think the let-kids-win-always approach is definitely not healthy,” McNamee said, adding children usually know when their parents are letting them win.

If a child is struggling with a particular game, parents should feel free to adjust the rules. Whether it’s pulling an extra card in Candyland or getting four strikes during backyard batting practice, tweaking the rules to improve a child’s chance at success is perfectly acceptable, McNamee said.

Such exceptions to the rules also can be used to teach a valuable life lesson. Indeed, the rules are different for certain people and in certain situations. For example, cars and trucks have different speed limits in Illinois. And senior citizens pay less for coffee at Burger King than everyone else, she said.

“In our family, we were always adjusting the rules,” McNamee said.

As far as winning and losing, some sports programs have gone so far as to eliminate the scoreboards to protect kids from being labeled a “loser.” Other parents take it a step further and forbid any sort of competition.

But, kids need to learn how to lose. McNamee said keeping score at a t-ball game played by five-year-old children is unnecessary. But by the time kids are between the ages of six or seven, the score is important. It serves as another opportunity for a life lesson, McNamee said.

“None of us can duck the scores, whether it’s the ACT or our cholesterol,” she said.

As for my tendency toward beating Bubba in most games, I’m just not wired to let him win very often. Eventually, the tables will turn. Someday soon he’ll be the one beating up his dad while throwing beanbags in the backyard and showing me up in front of my grandchildren at the mini golf course.

I hope my self-esteem can handle it. Maybe Bubba will even be nice enough to let me eke out a close one.  ]]> http://thefatherlife.com/mag/2011/10/06/should-parents-let-kids-win/feed/ 1 http://thefatherlife.com/mag/2011/08/01/coppertone-kids/ http://thefatherlife.com/mag/2011/08/01/coppertone-kids/#comments Mon, 01 Aug 2011 10:12:26 +0000 Howard Ludwig http://thefatherlife.com/mag/?p=12059 Are tan kids a sign of parental neglect with sunscreen?

Sunscreen use has become a ritual among most parents. So much so that suntanned toddlers can create quite a stir at the public pool, splash pad or backyard sprinkler party.

As a parent of two Coppertone kids, I’m often subject to criticism. A comment such as, “Wow, Peter is really tan” is code for, “Do you ever use sunscreen?” or “You know skin cancer is going to kill your children, right?”

Only, I do use sunscreen. A day at the beach or flying kites always begins with slathering SPF 50 all over my 3- and 5-year-old boys. I skip the sunscreen if we’re going from the house to the car, but extended periods of sun exposure always include sunscreen.

But maybe my critics are right. Maybe a tan child is a sign of insufficient sunscreen use. To find out, I called Dr. Kenneth Bielinski, a board certified dermatologist. He came recommended by the American Academy of Dermatology.

“Based on your ethnic background, you can still tan through the sunscreen,” Bielinski said.

Whew.

He went on to say that people with olive color skin tend to suntan easily. These folks used to be the envy of the neighborhood before suntans were looked upon like cigarettes. Nowadays, pale skin is preferred, particularly among parents.

My kids may tan easily, but the general guidelines for sunscreen use still apply. Bielinski keyed me in to a few rules of thumb. First, he advised sunscreen rated SPF 30 or higher for most parts of the continental United States. It’s also important to use sunscreen that blocks UVA as well as UVB rays (the SPF rating strictly applies to UVB rays).

He went on to say that applying SPF30 really only provides coverage on the level of SPF15. In other words, the number on the bottle is cut in half or more once applied to the skin. And sunscreen that claims to be “sweat proof” or “water proof” is bogus. These products come off slower than others, but they aren’t impervious to sweat or water.

“There is a lot of confusion from the general public about sunscreen,” Bielinski said.

Most people also apply too little sunscreen. An adult should use one ounce of sunscreen per application. Thus, a typical 8-ounce bottle of sunscreen should consist of only eight applications. Sunscreen should also be reapplied every two hours, “regardless of what the label says,” Bielinski said.

The labels on sunscreen are expected to change next year. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration announced new rules for sunscreen manufacturers last week. The changes are expected simplify the information printed on the bottle for consumers.

As far for my tan tots, it’s assuring to know their bronze bodies aren’t a cry for help. And for anyone questioning my sunscreen use, I’ve come up with a clever white lie. The next person that says, “Wow, Peter’s really tan.”

My response is going to be, “Yeah, his mother is Hispanic.”

Bubba has a “girlfriend.” My four-year-old son has fallen for an adorable gal with curly hair and a toothless smile.

Her name is Ava, and she likewise considers Bubba her “boyfriend.”

The preschool classmates have been romantically linked (in name only) for about a month. Thankfully, Ava’s parents are good sports. In fact, Ava’s dad recently shared this exchange:

AVA – “Dad, what sort of car should I get when I’m older?”

DAD – “When you get your first car, it will probably be something like daddy’s (a four-door Volkswagen). It’s small and fuel-efficient. But when you’re older, you might want a car like mommy’s (a minivan). It sort of depends on how many kids you have.”

AVA – “Yeah, Bubba and I haven’t decided how many kids we want yet.”

These conversations are cute. But, I also babysit Ava once a week, and I want to address these exchanges appropriately. For example, Bubba has repeatedly said he plans to marry Ava.

Should I respond:

“That would be great. I really like Ava.”

Or should I say:

“Well, you are only four years old. There’s no sense in picking out a caterer just yet.”

Looking for some guidance, I called Dr. Jonathan Pochyly, a pediatric psychologist at Children’s Memorial Hospital in Chicago. He said the boyfriend/girlfriend talk is all very innocent. There’s no need to add fuel to the courtship, but he also warned against outright dismissing it.

As for addressing Bubba’s looming marriage proposal, he suggested I respond:

“I like the way you and Ava play together. You two get along very nicely.”

Pochyly also quickly surmised that Ava is behind the boyfriend and girlfriend labels. Girls are more advanced than boys when it comes to relationships. But more importantly, Ava has two older sisters and an older brother.

Ava’s likely borrowing language she’s heard from her older siblings as well as things she’s picked up from television programs aimed at their demographic. Tween shows like “Wizards of Waverly Place” and others often delve into such topics, he said.

Ava is applying these lessons to her friendship with Bubba, he said.

“They have some fancy names for what they are doing, but really they are just two kids playing,” Pochyly said.

Still, he said it’s a good idea to be ready to re-direct the conversation and/or play between Bubba and Ava should things get awkward. Such an incident happened last Wednesday during lunch. We were all eating cheese pizza when Ava laid her head on Bubba’s shoulder.

“This is called snuggling, Bubba,” she said.

“Oh, that’s nice. Do you ever snuggle with your mommy?” I quickly responded.

“Yeah, sometimes she lays in bed with me,” Ava said.

“Sometimes, my mommy snuggles with me too,” Bubba said.

Whew.

The other exchange that stood out wasn’t awkward. It was just plain funny.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked Ava. We had different color plates for our pizza.

“I like blue, purple, pink…” Ava said before she was interrupted.

“I like green, blue…” Bubba said only to be interrupted himself.

“Um, Bubba! I was talking,” Ava said, quickly silencing her boyfriend and rolling her eyes at his rude behavior.

Just like an old, married couple.

Howard “Bubba” Ludwig’s first appearance came at the plate. The four-year-old phenom hit third in the order and didn’t disappoint. On first swing, Ludwig (my son) sent the ball into the gap between first and second, loading the bases.

This turned into a big inning for the A’s (more commonly known as “the green team”). Everyone in the batting order was sent to the plate. The opposing Orioles (a.k.a. “the orange team”) recorded just one out before coaches instructed the two teams to switch sides.

Ludwig took the field after briefly misplacing his hat. He anchored third base. Not a single ball was hit his direction, yet the rookie made his presence known by chatting up opposing runners.

His strategy seemed to work. One distracted runner sprinted from third base across the diamond back to first base rather than heading home as the ball was punched off the tee.

This was one of many base-running blunders throughout the game. A few batters later, the runner advancing from second to third base stopped, picked up a handful of dirt, threw it in the air a la LeBron James and walked into third.

Errors abounded in the field too. The ambitious pitcher and stubborn shortstop fell to the ground wrestling over who was going to throw the ball to first base. The second baseman chewed on her glove while a ball rolled inches past her feet. And the first baseman seemed more interested in wearing his mitt like a facemask than a glove.

It wasn’t long before the O’s ran through their batting order and were sent back into the field. The A’s returned to the dugout seemingly unaware of their many mistakes.

Ludwig again batted third in the order. He stepped to the plate wearing a batting helmet that could have fit over a beach ball. With runners on first and second, the rookie hit a grounder to the first baseman. She scooped up the ball and stepped on the adjacent bag. This was the first out of the inning.

Ludwig seemed stunned. He ran to first base and stood there anyway. It wasn’t until one of the coaches told him to return to the bench that he walked off the field looking like a disappointed bobble-head doll.

Despite the early out, the A’s again ran through the batting order. The team was then sent back out onto the field for the final half inning.

Ludwig was asked to defend second base this time. He returned to his standard form of distracting base runners with inane conversation.

He spoke in depth with one runner about the benefits of wearing a batting helmet. He took his glove and whacked the runner over the head to illustrate his point. This backfired when the runner walloped the helmet-less Ludwig in return for this demonstration.

Again, not a single ball was hit his direction (perhaps by design?). He finished the game by drawing ornate shapes in the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

The two-inning game concluded with an inside-the-park home run by the last batter. All innings end this way.

Finally, the players stood in parallel lines. With their right hands extended, the lines converged with as opponents congratulated each other by repeating, “Good game. Good game. Good game.”

Honestly, the game wasn’t very “good.” I certainly hope the level of play improves, particularly from the much-anticipated rookie. However, I doubt baseball games ever get more entertaining.